In Huining Courtyard, a new pot of wind orchids had appeared—sent by An Cheng Prince, Xiao Mingyu.
The blossoms were delicate and graceful, their fragrance rich and lingering. Set upon the windowsill, they swayed gently in the breeze, carrying threads of their scent into the room.
Seated by the window on the kang bed, Zheng Qian caught that faint perfume. Under the heavy summer heat, it made her drowsy.
In front of her, Hongluan stood stiffly, face flushed red, struggling desperately to recall the multiplication table.
"Four times nine is… is…"
At her side, Nanny Dai looked like she might collapse from frustration—experiencing firsthand the torment of tutoring that future generations would know all too well.
Zheng Qian yawned, her mind already wandering.
"Ah Chou ran off again… When will this summer end? When autumn comes, what should we make to eat…"
Her thoughts drifted aimlessly—until Hongluan suddenly blurted out:
"Four times nine is thirty-six!"
With that, she managed to recite the entire multiplication table in one go.
Zheng Qian laughed. "Hard work pays off. You've finally memorized it."
Hongluan beamed. "Now I can help you with accounts, Miss!"
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Nanny Dai cut in sharply.
Zheng Qian couldn't help but laugh again.
Life in her courtyard was harmonious for now. Of course, everyone had their own little thoughts—but when it came to important matters, they were united.
To them, Zheng Qian was everything.
Hongluan, now relaxed, immediately began complaining:
"Miss, Ah Chou has been disappearing a lot lately. Last night he didn't come back until midnight!"
Competing with a cat for attention—truly impressive.
Zheng Qian replied calmly, "He's probably in heat. When the weather cools down, I'll have him neutered."
"Why not get him a female cat instead?" Hongluan suggested. "Then you'd have lots of kittens to play with."
Zheng Qian shook her head. "I'm too young to be a grandmother. My son is better off as a eunuch."
Hongluan: "…"
—
The conversation shifted to the orchid.
"That was sent by the prince," Hongluan said. "He treats you quite well."
Zheng Qian raised a brow. "Sending a flower counts as 'well'?"
"It's a rare variety! Probably cultivated in the palace—it's not something you can find just anywhere," Hongluan insisted. "The thought matters."
Zheng Qian gave a noncommittal hum.
Hongluan, as always, spoke without much thought.
"Miss… now that you've broken off your engagement with the Wen family… are you going to marry the prince?"
Zheng Qian glanced at her in surprise. "Why would you think that?"
"He's good, isn't he?"
Zheng Qian shook her head, amused. "That's not the point."
"Then what is?"
She replied lightly—
"He doesn't fancy your Miss. That's the point."
Hongluan: "…"
…That was a problem.
After all, her Miss wasn't exactly a breathtaking beauty like the second young lady.
If only Zheng Qian were both capable and stunning, like Zheng Yutan—then surely the prince would fall for her. They'd all become servants in a prince's manor.
That would certainly enrage the second young lady.
"Enough daydreaming," Zheng Qian said with a smile. "Go do your work."
—
Two days later, Xiao Mingyu sent over twenty coils of mosquito incense.
The product had already begun gaining popularity across the capital.
It was sold through Yuanxiang Pavilion, a high-end fragrance shop catering to elite households.
Zheng Qian noticed something—
All of Xiao Mingyu's businesses targeted the upper class.
High-end markets meant high profits.
Luxury, after all, was never about materials—it was about status.
Just like Zhaiyu Pavilion's jewelry. Without at least one or two pieces, a noble lady could hardly call herself refined.
She accepted the incense.
Within just half a month, it had already built a reputation.
Rumors spread alongside it—
"That Zheng family eldest daughter again—she also invented abacus techniques."
"I've never even seen her."
"Not surprising. In that household, even the concubine-born second daughter is more prominent than the eldest."
"They say she's a disciple of a ghost doctor."
"Those stories come around every few years—probably fake."
"Not entirely. Didn't her brother stand up again? He's even taken a post at the Ministry of Rites."
Voices overlapped, truth and speculation tangled together.
Yet in an age without widespread communication, the rumors remained limited to the elite.
To most people, such miracles were simply too unbelievable.
—
On the seventeenth day of the sixth month, the Fifth Young Master arrived early for dinner.
The table had just been set when a knock sounded at the courtyard gate.
A maid hurried to open it—
And froze.
Standing there was Zheng Chi.
He had been practicing walking daily. His complexion had improved, no longer deathly pale. Though slightly tanned now, he looked far more alive.
Dressed in plain white summer robes, he carried himself with quiet elegance.
Even the maid blushed slightly.
"Eldest Young Master…"
Zheng Qian stood. "Brother, what brings you here?"
"I've come to share a meal," Zheng Chi replied, stepping inside with steady strides, carrying a food box.
The Fifth Young Master reluctantly stood. "Big brother."
"Sit," Zheng Chi said calmly. "You eat here often?"
"The food here is better," the Fifth Young Master answered without hesitation.
Zheng Chi said nothing.
Zheng Qian opened the food box—inside were three dishes and a jug of wine.
"Braised lamb?" she asked.
He nodded.
She poured the wine, giving each of them a cup. The three siblings clinked cups together.
"Did you come only for dinner?" Zheng Qian asked.
Zheng Chi took a sip, his breath tinged faintly with wine.
"I came to tell you—"
"I've taken up my post at the Ministry of Rites."
The Fifth Young Master, mouth full of food, cut in:
"We know. Third Brother is furious."
Naturally, he meant Zheng Hao.
In an era without imperial examinations, official positions required connections, money, and luck.
Zheng Hao had spent heavily trying to secure a post—only to fail before even reaching the emperor's consideration.
And now—
Zheng Chi had been directly appointed.
No wonder jealousy burned.
"Congratulations, Brother," Zheng Qian said, raising her cup.
Zheng Chi lightly tapped hers with his.
His gaze lingered on her—deep, unreadable.
He said nothing more.
And then, in one smooth motion, he drained his cup.